


i'll find a martyr in my bed tonight

by uneventfulhouses



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Smoking, Vaginal Sex, rarebuzzships prompt roulette, this is very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:28:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22324096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uneventfulhouses/pseuds/uneventfulhouses
Summary: “Maybe you need someone to help you sleep," Mari suggests.Ryan cracks a smile. “Is that a come on?”Mari shrugs. “We’ve been dancing around it, I think.” She gives him a gentle smile, hoping she isn’t wrong, that she has read into the way he looks at her, the soft way he talks to her, how he leans in close and flashes a bright smile at three in the morning over coffee and hash browns they share.Ryan regards her with curious eyes, but he’s smiling all the while, leaning back against the booth. He adjusts their hands so their fingers interlock, and it feels like an answer.or; mari takes ryan home to sleep.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Marielle Scott
Comments: 11
Kudos: 15





	i'll find a martyr in my bed tonight

**Author's Note:**

> hey friends. i'm back, but this time it's a lot of soft. title is from "some nights" by f.u.n.

Mari still has about an hour and a half before she closes, but when she looks over to her favorite table, Ryan’s already looking at her, and there’s a rush emotion that thrums through her. It’s not a new thing; Ryan Bergara has made a home in that booth for the last few months. She’s used to him being there, stressed, sleepless from his insomnia. 

Mari rounds the counter; there aren’t any other customers in the diner and it’s quiet, a lull that will no doubt continue for the rest of her shift; she’ll get off at five or so, and that’s when the rush will begin. She uses her time to sit with Ryan.

He combs his fingers through his hair as she slides into the booth.

“I don’t know how I’m going to keep doing this,” he says, regarding her with dark, tired eyes. He hasn’t shaved in days, and his hair stands a little wayward from carding his hands through it. 

Mari frowns; when Ryan sets his hands on the table, she reaches out to touch them, take them into her own. “We both know you’re a lot stronger than you pretend to be.”

“I'm not pretending. I’m just trying—and it's difficult. With the nightmares.” 

“I believe that,” she says. “Maybe you need someone to help you sleep.” 

Ryan cracks a smile. “Is that a come on?” 

Mari shrugs. “We’ve been dancing around it, I think.” She gives him a gentle smile, hoping she isn’t wrong, that she has read into the way he looks at her, the soft way he talks to her, how he leans in close and flashes a bright smile at three in the morning over coffee and hash browns they share. 

Ryan regards her with curious eyes, but he’s smiling all the while, leaning back against the booth. He adjusts their hands so their fingers interlock, and it feels like an answer. 

“I’m off in an hour if you want to wait. I live a couple blocks away if you’d like to walk me home,” she says. 

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot,” he says to her and there’s a warmth in her chest that drips into her veins. She wants to lean over the table and kiss him. Like she’s been wanting to for the last few months. He has a way about him; for all his anxiety and self-deprecation and wide tired eyes, she shouldn’t be attracted to him. He doesn’t exude the confidence she’s usually attracted to, and yet, she knows he’s brilliant, intelligent, gentle with her during conversations where they’ve admitted things she wouldn’t have under any other circumstances. 

“Okay.” She squeezes his fingers before she lets go. She slides ungracefully from the booth and when she passes him, she feels the tips of his fingers brush her arm. When she looks back at him, there’s hope in his eyes, brimming heat she hadn’t seen him harbor before. 

It makes the rest of her shift pass by too slowly, sweeping the floors and wiping down the counters, looking up every so often to catch him watching her. And they share smiles, softness in the dark of a too-early morning, before she goes back to work. 

:::

After she counts her till, she plucks her jacket from the breakroom and says goodbye to the cook. Ryan isn’t sitting at the booth anymore, but when she pushes the door of the diner open, she finds him standing in the gravel at the edge of the building. He’s smoking—and it’s not like she hadn’t known about it, but she definitely doesn’t like it.

When she reaches him, she plucks the cigarette from his mouth and throws it on the ground, stomping over it with her sneaker like it’s offended her. 

“And definitely no more of that, okay?” she says seriously.

Ryan laughs, eyes filled with a shine so bright Mari feels a little dazed. “Not that easy, but okay.” He takes her hand in his, slotting their fingers together.

“You’re gonna kill yourself doing that,” she admonishes softly. “And it makes you stink.” 

Ryan’s lazy grin makes her feel too hot in her clothes. “Alright, alright,” he says. “I’ll stop, cross my heart.” He looks at her with eyes like coffee; despite her late shift, she feels wide awake. 

“Come on, let me take you home,” she murmurs, tugging on his hand to lead the way.

:::

Mari lives in a yellow townhouse at the end of the street. She doesn’t have any roommates even though she has the space for one, but she uses the second bedroom as a second closet, a dressing room of sorts. 

The sky is still dark as they walk the few blocks back to hers. They don’t talk, but they walk slowly, ambling along the sidewalk. At some point, she becomes close enough to press into his side and he wraps an arm around her shoulders. 

Ryan crowds behind her as she unlocks the front door. She flips on the hall lights, illuminating the walkway to the kitchen and the staircase. With his hand in hers, she leads him up the stairs to her bedroom.

She turns on the lights as Ryan walks in further, standing at the edge of her bed, in front of her dresser where she has photographs and various knick knacks. He peruses her desk without her permission, but she’s so taken by the sight of him, a contrast to the soft pinks and pale golds of her decorations as he stands dressed in dark denim and his black hoodie. 

Leaning against the doorway she kicks off her sneakers, shedding her jacket and setting it on the hook on the back of the door. “I’m gonna make some tea. You get in the shower. I think I have some of my brother’s clothes stashed somewhere. There are spare toothbrushes under the sink.” 

“Why are you even doing this?” 

It's a question Mari doesn't know the answer to, but she knows she wants to, and that's the bottom line. “You like—you look like you need it.” She gives him a soft smile. 

“If I wasn't already in love with you, I am now,” he says with a tired smile. 

Mari hums, smiling a little brighter as she leaves the room, blooming with warmth tucked into her chest, his words leaving her a little dazed as she descends the stairs.

In the kitchen, she busies herself with the kettle, boiling water as she hears the creak of the shower turn on. She just stands there and listens to water falling, wondering why she _is_ bothering at all. It’s not her job to save people, and yet, she feels like there’s something in him that only she can see. Maybe it’s the glow of a blinding smile she hasn’t seen yet, or the warmth of his chest underneath her palms that she hasn’t felt yet, knowing words he could say to her before he’s said them. She doesn’t know, but she figures she will when she finds out. 

She busies herself looking for clothes for him in the second bedroom, finding a stash in the bottom drawer of the dresser from a couple summers ago. She pulls out a sweatshirt and pants, both looking a little big for Ryan’s modest frame, but she lays them out on her bed anyway. She makes her way back downstairs.

The kettle whistle blows as the shower shuts off, and she makes herself a cup, and then one for Ryan, waiting a few minutes before she steps towards the staircase. 

“Can I come up?” she asks, pausing as she holds both mugs in her hands at the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah, I'm good,” he calls down. 

When she gets to her room, he’s sitting on the edge of her bed, dressed only in the pants, and her breath hitches just slightly, eyes catching over his naked shoulders and chest, before she looks up at his face. He’s already looking back at her. She hands him a mug and he takes it, touching the back of her thigh with his auxiliary hand. She steps in close, standing between his thighs where he’s made space to accommodate her. He looks up at her, and she, because she can’t seem to help herself, she combs her fingers through his damp hair. 

“You look exhausted,” she says, “but a lot better.”

He smiles at her. “Sit with me.” 

She does, right next to him, thighs touching, and she drinks her tea and he drinks his, murmuring softly to each other as morning light begins to filter through her flimsy bedroom curtains. 

When they finish their tea, mugs are set on the nightstand and he lays back, turning so he’s settled on his stomach on the side by the wall. She lays next to him, crowding into his space; she wraps her arm around his shoulders, hitches her thigh over the back of his own. He looks at her, brown eyes dark and wide, and they lay like that, watching each other between blinks, until Mari falls asleep. 

When she wakes, late afternoon light glows golden. They must have shifted in their sleep and Ryan must have pulled the blankets up around them at some point. She doesn’t move from where she’s burrowed against his chest, breathing in the scent of his skin, like pomegranate from her body wash. Ryan’s arm is heavy over her waist, holding her against him, like he’s afraid he’ll find her gone when he wakes. And because the thought breaks her heart a little, she shifts just slightly, to press a kiss against the hollow of his throat, like she can ease his fears. 

“Hey,” he says, pulling back to look down at her. He looks _rested_ , alive, if not just a little sleepy. 

“Hi,” she says. “Sleep okay?” 

Ryan nods, pressing his hand against the small of her back when she shifts to untangle herself from him. “Will you stay for a little?” 

She touches a palm to his face, nodding. “Only if you kiss me,” she whispers. 

And there are his eyes again, regarding her with that same mix of curiosity and lust and a gentleness she doesn’t understand. And when he leans in to kiss her, he misses by miles it feels like, when he presses his warm lips against her forehead, lingering for a moment, before he pulls away. And it’s so much—unexpected really, she finds herself laughing softly, leaning into him, hiding her face in the column of his throat. 

Mari isn't one to waste a day in bed, but they do today, wrapped together for hours, talking quietly, laughing loudly, watching each other. At some point, she holds him from behind, her hand splayed over his chest; his heart is steady in his ribcage, strong. He’s dropped back off into sleep, and she holds him, gently running fingers through his unruly hair, humming gentle melodies. 

When she wakes up, he isn’t in bed with her, but his side is warm. She rolls onto it, pressing her face into his pillow, listening to the quiet of the house disturbed by soft clanging in the kitchen. It's dark now, Saturday night, and while her body aches from laying too long, she just wants him back in her bed again. 

In the meantime, she uses the bathroom, brushes her teeth, and heads downstairs, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen just to watch the way he moves. 

“What are you making?” she asks. He turns to look at her, and he may as well be a completely different person than the man that sits in her section at the diner at two in the morning; his eyes are soft and happy, cheeks flushed, smile lazy. He's handsome in her modest kitchen, shirtless, in pants that are just a little too long as the hems pool over his bare feet. 

“I’m only good for grilled cheese,” he says, and she giggles, shaking her head. 

“It's a good thing it's my favorite, then.” She moves to make herself tea; his fingers catch against her waist and he pulls her to him, tucking her right up against his side. In some sickly sweet, domestic display of affection, he kisses her forehead again. 

“You better start kissing me properly,” she teases, even as she drops a kiss to his shoulder. She pinches his side just to hear him laugh. 

And god, the sound of it warms her, flickers like a candle flame right in the center of her body. 

Sitting on the floor, leaned up against the stove, they eat and drink their tea, talking all the while. She laughs at his jokes, and he laughs at hers, and things are so easy.

“I should probably go,” he says when their conversation has lulled, tracing shapes on her thigh where she's got her legs over his lap. 

“I don't want you to. Not unless you have somewhere to be,” she tells him honestly. 

“I don't.” 

She pulls her legs away and stands up, holding her hand out. “Then let's go back to bed.” 

With the lights off downstairs, Mari leads Ryan up by memory. She turns on the twinkle lights, for a soft glow before slipping into bed beside him. And this; it's calm here, easy to fall into him, with no mind for anything other than the way he looks at her. Lying on their sides, he wraps his arms around her, and she leans her forehead against his. 

“It'd be so easy to love you,” he murmurs to her. 

“How do you know?” she says. “I could be a psycho.” 

His laugh is a huff of breath, warm over her lips. “I can't imagine that. Your heart is too good.” 

He presses a hand just over the swell of her bottom, pressing her fully against him. Her breath hitches; his eyes are so brown, so deeply intense. She knows what's going to happen before it does, but even then, she's wholly surprised when he touches his lips to hers. 

Soft, gentle presses, chaste kisses that raise goosebumps on her arms, and then more, when his hand touches her cheek and she opens up for him, inviting the hot stroke of his tongue, the heat of his body. She sighs, curling fingers through his hair. 

They kiss for a long time, all night it feels like, shedding clothes along the way. His body is hot but his hands are gentle. Naked, she settles a thigh over his hip. His fingers slip inside her and she moans, low, lust like magma in her veins. She watches his face, the concentration that knits his brows together as her hips shift, finding unadulterated pleasure as he presses his fingers deep inside of her. 

It's not long after that she stops him, reaches between their bodies for the thickness of his length, scorching against her palm. He groans, a reverberating noise that sinks into her flesh, his eyes shut tight as she strokes him, just before she sets the tip of him against her; his hips press forward into hers, and he slips inside slowly, so easily. 

She keeps her leg draped over his hip and his hands rests against her bottom; her hand curls in his hair while the other rests against the racing beat of his heart. 

They don't kiss; and Mari would feel at a loss for it, but god, the way Ryan looks at her while he fucks her is more than enough to make up for it. She feels like she's in love, is she in love? 

“Ryan, baby,” she whispers, fingers tightening in his hair. “Right there, _right_ there.”

He shifts their bodies, pulls her on top of him as he lays beneath her, and here, it's different. He's so deep inside of her it's almost too much to handle, but she finds his eyes as easily as his hands find hers. She lowers herself against his chest and lays against him, watching his face all the while, hips undulating a near torturous rhythm. 

“Just like that, Mari,” he says. His cheeks are flushed and his hair sticks to his forehead, and if this was all she saw for the rest of her life, she’d be alright. 

“You're so beautiful,” he whispers. “Ethereal like.” 

She smiles, shifting her hips, watching the way his lips part to gasp. 

And then he’s rolling them over, a slow tilt of their bodies against the mattress, until she's lying on her back with him between her thighs. He thrusts against her, a little hard, deliberate, but just right, enough to have her shut her eyes and call out his name into the quiet air of her bedroom. 

With her knees tucked high, up against his ribs, he keeps his rhythm slow, her eyes on his. Her body aches from the way he moves against her, fingers tight around hers up above their heads, chests pressed together. She lets him go, only to hold him, press her fingers into the dip of his spine. His hands slip under her shoulders, like he’s doing the same. She’s never been this close to someone, this wrapped in them. She wants to get lost in the hot press of his body, the way he grinds against her, eliciting sighs that taper into moans, echoing. Under the glow of her twinkling lights, he’s luminescent, radiant, shoulder blades slick with sweat, his emotions written all over his face. 

“I just want to ease your mind,” she sighs. “I think I want to make you happy.” 

“Think you could,” he says, leaning in to kiss over her shoulders, her neck when she bares it for him. “So happy.” 

It feels like hours that they lay there like that, with his body on hers, fucking her so gently, winding her up so tight that when she comes, she cries, traitorous tears spilling down her temples as she bows into him, teeth scraping against his collar. And Ryan, he kisses those tears away with reverent lips, whispering her name when he comes inside of her. His body stills, and he groans low, quiet, right in her ear. She keeps him close so he can stay inside of her, just for a little while longer as she tries to remember how to breathe. 

Mari’s a gross, sticky mess, but Ryan showers with her, kissing her under the spray of the water between actually washing themselves clean. His mouth is ruthless, travelling desperately over her throat, pinning her against steam warmed tiles as he fucks her again. 

When she steps out, he’s wrapped a towel around his waist, and he holds one out for her to walk into. It's frightening how much she wants this, how much she just wants him to disrupt her life, tilt her world on its axis and spin it the other direction. She wants him here, in her shower and her kitchen and her bed, where she can soothe his sleeplessness with the achingly tender way they make love. 

Mari looks at herself in the mirror as he exits the bathroom. He’s left her gifts, bruises along her neck. She presses her fingers into them, relishes the way they hurt a little. 

In the bedroom, he’s pulling on the clothes he’d worn the day before, his t shirt and jeans and jacket and boots. 

He looks up at her, glittering eyes when she sets her towel over the edge of her bed, walking to her dresser for clothing. 

“Mari,” he says. She looks at him over her shoulder, curls bouncing wet. 

“Hmm, baby?”

“Let’s get some food.” 

“Okay. Can we go back to yours?” she slips into panties, a t shirt. Finds a decent pair of jeans. “I want you to get some clothes and whatever other stuff you need.”

He smiles at her. 

“It's more for me than you. I just—" she looks away from him. “I just want you here.” 

He stands from the edge of her bed and crosses the room over to her, winding his arms around her waist. He isn't much taller than she is, but she feels so small when he holds her like this. 

“Good thing I wanna be here.” He smiles at her like she’s precious, some sort of treasure, and it feels a lot like it’s too good to be true.

Mari sighs, looking down at the column of his neck, the collar of his t shirt. “Do you think this—I don't know.” 

“No, tell me.” 

“Do you think this is all just, like, whirlwind? Do you think you'll get tired of me in like three days and never want to see me again?” she whispers. 

“I think, for as many nights that I couldn't sleep, I could have gone anywhere, and yet, I went to see you. That's gotta tell you a little something about something,” he says honestly, dark eyes so soft and Mari’s heart causes a riot in her chest. 

“You got some words on you,” she says, shaking her head. “Kiss me.” 

And he does, right where she wants him to. 

“I think we’ll figure it out,” he says against her lips. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading <3! [tumblr.](https://uneventfulhouses.tumblr.com/)


End file.
